


And We Will Put Lonesome on the Shelf

by firstbreaths



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 06:54:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1041714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstbreaths/pseuds/firstbreaths
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Besides, Kurt doesn’t hide himself on the internet, often reblogging photosets of New York and adding captions about how he can’t wait to kiss his boyfriend in Times Square at midnight just because he can and making text posts about how Sherlock is the only thing on his dash gayer than him (and Santana, but he’s pretty sure he’s blacklisted about ninety percent of the things she posts by now), but he’s never thought about people actually looking to him as some kind of role model because of it, of people actually wanting his advice about his own experiences. Or: the one where Blaine is a tumblr BNF.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And We Will Put Lonesome on the Shelf

**Author's Note:**

> For luckyjak on tumblr, who prompted "Blaine is a tumblr BMF and Kurt is jealous"

It’s not often that they get to do this.

Kurt’s lying in bed beside Blaine, legs wrapped around his boyfriend’s as Blaine peppers his shoulders and neck with gentle kisses. Blaine’s parents are out of town for the weekend, and Burt’s long come to accept Kurt staying at the Anderson’s so long as he checks in occasionally but promises not to share any of the more intimate details. He squirms slightly away from Blaine, laughing as Blaine just rolls further across the bed, distracting him for a moment with a loud, sloppy kiss.

“You’re insufferable,” he laughs, but he’s smiling into the kiss, and he knows Blaine can feel it. “I’m just trying to grab my phone, let me go for a second.”

“I don’t know why you’d bother to sext me when I’m right here,” and Kurt’s kind of in love with the way that neither of them blush, now; sex is just another part of their relationship like trips to the Lima Bean and doing their homework together over the phone, only a lot more fun. He might kind of miss that awkward stage a little, when everything was new and exciting and fresh, but it’s hard to, really. At least when Blaine’s says it’s hot how confident he’s gotten.

“I’m not, Christian Louboutin released a new collection last night, and I need to check my tumblr to reblog it in all of its sartorial glory. Nothing stands in the way of a good –“

Blaine silences him with another kiss.

Kurt finally gets his dashboard to load, reblogging a few pictures and mentally bookmarking the ones he’d like to add commentary to later, and quickly replying to Mercedes’ midnight text post about crying over _The Notebook_ to insist that they go and watch _Vow_ soon, if only to figure out how many tears one can shed before being cheered up by Channing Tatum’s good looks. Blaine’s sitting in the bed beside him, wearing a fake pout so ridiculous that Kurt kind of loves it; he’d thought sex was the most intimate thing he’d ever enjoy with Blaine, only to be surprised by the intensity of the morning after, and how, after they’d revealed so much of themselves, they could still lie here like this, and revel in their love for each other.

The fact that Blaine doesn’t even try to hide what an unabashed dork he can be at times is endearing to Kurt, especially known how much his boyfriend has tried to keep hidden for so long.

He flips through to Blaine’s tumblr to write something in his ask that conveys just that, something for him to keep between all of the meme questions and back and forth conversation about _The Sing Off_ with Mike, their love like a flower pressed between the pages of a book for safekeeping; extraordinary and yet so very ordinary, all at the same time. Kurt’s shocked, to say the least, when he scrolls through Blaine’s blog a little, cursing the wireless internet at Blaine’s house just as it loads, revealing exactly how many questions Blaine has had in his ask box recently.

Most of them are anonymous, and most of them start off along the lines of _“I think I might be gay, how should I go about….?”._ Some of Blaine’s answers are short, others seemingly a little more detailed, but Kurt drops his phone to the bed in shock before he can read them, Blaine glancing up curiously from where he’s taken to checking Facebook on his own phone. His eyebrows are raised and his mouth is settling into the shape of a frown, and Kurt just shakes his head, unable to speak.

All of the New Directions follow each other on tumblr, but Kurt has a busy dashboard, and unless Blaine’s specifically tags him in something he wants to Kurt to see, a lot of Blaine’s posts end up drowned out by photosets of Audrey Hepburn and Youtube videos of Rachel singing. Besides, Kurt doesn’t hide himself on the internet, often reblogging photosets of New York and adding captions about how he can’t wait to kiss his boyfriend in Times Square at midnight just because he can and making text posts about how Sherlock is the only thing on his dash gayer than him (and Santana, but he’s pretty sure he’s blacklisted about ninety percent of the things she posts by now), but he’s never thought about people actually looking to him as some kind of role model because of it, of people actually wanting his advice about his own experiences.

He’s reminded, suddenly, of the first day he’d met Blaine and a wave of something like gratitude washes over him. Not because Blaine had saved him, by any means, but because Blaine had shown him that he could save himself, and Kurt sits up straighter in the bed, wriggling closer to Blaine and whispering, “I love you.”

“So you’ve finally decided that I’m more important than videos from Lady Gaga’s Monster Ball, then,” Blaine replies, but he’s reaching for Kurt’s hand, lacing their fingers together and stroking his thumb delicately over Kurt’s knuckles, as he adds, “but the feeling’s mutual, you know that.”

“You _know_ I’m not watching any of the Youtube videos when I don’t want to be spoiled for the actual experience,” Kurt says, but he reaches out for his phone, buried in the covers near his foot, and shows it to Blaine. “But I saw _this._ ”

Blaine sucks in a breath as he realises what Kurt’s pointing to.

“I kept meaning to ask you for advice on what I should say, actually,” he says, turning to face Kurt. His eyes are a little wide and he suddenly looks so young; Kurt’s suddenly reminded of _why_ he’s only a junior and he’s suddenly floored by Blaine’s ability to shoulder the burden of strangers on the internet, as well as his own. It’s impossible not to be fiercely _proud,_ and if there was a bouquet of flowers that said _thank you for being you,_ Kurt would have happily paid the money for rush shipping. “But there’s no real way to bring up strangers trying to talk to you on the internet, especially since –“

Neither of them really wants to talk about Sebastian.

“Why you?” is what Kurt asks, finally, squeezing Blaine’s hand silently to show that he doesn’t mean anything by it. He doesn’t, really; he knows that the only advice he can give is _be yourself,_ and even he’d struggled with that for a long time. It doesn’t mean he’s not a little irrationally angry about the fact that Blaine, who passes in a way that Kurt never could (even if he generally chooses not to, especially on the internet), gets asked for advice more than he does.

Then again, he himself had been drawn in by the kind of magnetic pull that Blaine has, even though the metaphor’s lost some of its meaning now that Kurt knows they’re not really opposites, just both strong and weak in their own ways.

“I mean, I love you and you know I’d come to you for any advice that doesn’t involve _French_ – don’t worry, I found your attempt to get into Mr. Schue’s Spanish assignment even though you weren’t there incredibly attractive, it’s nice to have a boyfriend who understands the appeal of matching pyjamas – but you mangle the romantic languages. It’s just, you’re a seventeen year old on the internet, I’m not sure why they expect you to solve all of their problems.”

“I _do_ put out the caveat that I’m not exactly known for my good advice,” Blaine says with a shy smile, like Kurt hasn’t _long_ forgiven him, “but I reblogged a few articles about queer identity during my Queer as Folk phase, and I’ve been posting stuff about Prop 8 lately, and…”

Blaine shakes his head and sighs, long and drawn out. Kurt tries not to watch the muscles in his throat flex; they’re having a serious conversation.

“It’s different for you,” Blaine says finally, chin now resting in his hands. “I know, with Karofsky, we talked about people having different coming out experiences and all, but –“

“It’s okay, Blaine, you don’t have to justify what you’re about to say to me.” Kurt looks at him, looks around his room and clenches Blaine’s hand tighter, decidedly not saying _you’re this incredibly interesting person whom I’m happen to love, even if you do like sports that involve horse shit, and the world will_ always _make you justify_ that.

“When you came out, you had your dad, and Mercedes. Even Santana says now that she regrets all the things about you that she said, although she’ll probably never tell you that. But Cooper was in LA, at the time, and couldn’t afford a flight home, and I had no one else, except –“

Blaine bites his fingernails, suddenly pensive, and Kurt’s so proud of him, all over again, to have experienced so much and to yet still be brave enough to let Kurt love him.

“I read dozens of articles by other people who’d just come out, and I got talking to a friend of Wes’, at Dalton…”

Kurt doesn’t even try to hide his smirk. “Please tell me _he_ would have supported my suggestions for the Warblers. I mean, I get now why _Rio_ was possibly a little ostentatious, even at a school like that, but come on, Blaine, everyone likes Mariah Carey.”

“I don’t know, he was a senior at the time; Wes knew him through the chess team. But we spent the entire time talking about Neil Patrick Harris’ butt, and by the end of it, it was just nice, to have someone who let me be me without judging it.”

“So when you and Tina spend all that time dissecting the greatest moments of Barney and Robin on _How I Met Your Mother,_ you’re really…?”

“Imagining that it’s me kissing him?” Blaine doesn’t even bother to look sheepish, but grins unabashedly, before letting his hand settle slowly on Kurt’s thigh, drawing teasing circles with his finger there. “Sometimes, yeah. At least I have an advantage over Tina; I don’t have to convince my boyfriend about how attractive he’d look in a suit.”

“Not just any suit, I do have to make sure it’s tailored to my body shape,” and Blaine’s still grinning uncontrollably, much more excited than he usually is when Kurt gets geared up to talk fashion for long periods of time. “What are you smiling at? I don’t own every issue for GQ ever published just for the sake of having an organised collection, or a lifetime’s supply of pictures of Chris Pine and Zachary Quinto.”

“It’s nothing,” Blaine says, sitting up long enough to give Kurt a quick kiss. “Just that... seeing that I’m in this relationship with you, and that we can be so open and honest about everything together, I think that helps these people, regardless of what advice I actually give. I generally try to refer them to organisations like The Trevor Project or their school counsellors, anyway.”

Kurt just nods, letting himself melt into a second and a third and possibly a fourth kiss before pulling away, claiming that he needs a shower. He sets his phone down on Blaine’s bedside table, before picking it up again and quickly reblogging one of the shots that he’d been most impressed by. He’ll go home this afternoon and browse through all the official shots before typing up a full review, anyway.

By the time Blaine’s out of the shower, Kurt’s folding the sheets down at the top of the bed, bending to straighten the pillows just as Blaine grabs at his waist from the side, one hand pulling him closer as the other curls under Kurt’s jaw, beckoning him into a kiss. Blaine hums into it like a musical note, the easiness and comfort a rhythmic tick in Kurt’s veins; the motion comforting not so much because of the routine itself, but because Blaine lets him have it. Blaine is doing what Kurt is, imagining this as their future; home is where the heart is, and Blaine too is envisioning a day when the two of them will have their own apartment, living like this.

Kurt says as much as Blaine moves to his desk, the lid of his laptop snapping open, and Blaine just leans back in his chair, pushing off the wall with both feet and letting it roll backwards until it’s spinning on the spot, close enough that he can give Kurt another kiss. Kurt stops it just this side of turning dirty, because his head’s tilted at an odd angle, and he’d at least like to maintain the pretence of there being a reason for him to actually make the bed for just a few minutes.

He’s smiling anyway, as he grips the back of Blaine’s chair, pushing it back under the desk before perching precariously on the edge of Blaine’s desk, one leg crossed over the other.

“With that spin, clearly you ought to be training for the ballet,” Kurt smirks, watching intently as Blaine opens up his internet browser. He quickly opens his tumblr dashboard, commenting on how he’s fairly sure that Brittany’s behind one of the most popular cat blogs he follows, before checking his inbox. There’s only the one message, fanmail from Santana – and if there’s one thing Kurt thought he’d never see, it’s his own sex life discussed in such a hideous font – and Blaine just reads it, laughing, before clicking back to his dash.

“Clearly you can’t be helpful on the internet every day,” Kurt says, and then, as Blaine scrolls further down, “although, you could reblog that fabulous sweater. I happen to know that Artie follows you, and he needs all the subtle advice he can get.”

“It _is_ a nice sweater,” Blaine agrees, “classic, elegant, incredibly form-fitting. Just like yours.” He looks Kurt up and down, eyebrow raised and smile bright like all his love for Kurt can shine through it, and it thrills him that after so long using clothes as armour to shield himself from the world, he can use them as a weapon to attract his boyfriend too, so he leans down from where he’s perched, pressing a quick kiss to Blaine’s cheek just as Blaine picks up his phone from the desk.

He knows, before the flash of Blaine’s iPhone camera has even stopped blinding him, that the picture will be uploaded to Blaine’s tumblr, the two of them smiling and carefree, like they don’t care who knows it, and he supposes that, really – that might just as helpful as Blaine’s advice in its own way.

Kurt pulls out his own phone to reblog the picture, adding the simple caption: _courage._

He can only hope that it will be a positive message for someone who follows him and, in the meantime, he knows that Blaine gets it, especially when he climbs down from the desk and sits in Blaine’s lap, whispering, “you know that last TMI Tuesday you participated in…”It’s not often that they get to do this.

  



End file.
